


Normal

by Everyday_Im_Narrating



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Don't worry, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Human AU, M/M, No Werewolves, Personal Growth, Scisaac - Freeform, also isaac thinks derek is hot, but like... who doesn't, but very light angst, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Narrating/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Narrating
Summary: Isaac learns that maybe he, too, can be normal.





	Normal

Life is weird sometimes.

One day, Isaac was living at home, with his dad, constantly worried and bruised and more than a little bit miserable. Then Dad was getting into the car – surprisingly sober, but in the pouring rain, and God knows how long it had been since he went to the goddamn eye doctor – and hours later the Sheriff was knocking on the door to bring Isaac the news that he was now the only Lahey left. Neither one of his parents had any siblings, his grandparents were long gone, and due to a whole bunch of pulled strings and happy coincidences, he was allowed to choose between going to a foster home and staying with his brother’s high school friend, Derek. He picked the latter. Granted, he hadn’t spoken to Derek since the last time he came over to study with Cam, but it was still better than a complete stranger – Isaac’s big childhood crush on Derek notwithstanding.

Derek and Isaac turned out to be very similar in a lot of aspects. Maybe too similar. On his first few days of living with the man, Isaac discovered they were both quiet, with a very low tolerance for stupidity, and a matching set of tragic backstories that could have easily ended up on an episode of Criminal Minds. Isaac came from a violent, neglectful family that also had a history of addiction and chronic bad luck, with nobody in the last three generations living past the age of fifty. Derek, on the other hand, had a picture-perfect home life until he hit fifteen, when he got into an abusive relationship with an older woman, and shortly after being dumped by her, lost his entire family in a fire caused by a freaky electrical accident. Isaac once saw a video in which a person’s life was described as “trauma bingo”, and it was an expression that suited both him and Derek really, really well.

They got along nicely, for the most part. Derek paid for everything he needed and checked up on him now and then, but mostly kept to himself and allowed Isaac to just do his own thing. It was nice. A little more independence than he was used to having, without the need to worry about any kind of punishment for doing things wrong.

If only it were that simple.

Whenever he so much as forgot to do the dishes, there was a gnawing feeling in his gut. More than once, he apologized to Derek before the man even noticed the sink was still full or the trash hadn’t been taken out. And when that happened… It wasn’t like Derek was _angry,_ exactly. He made it very clear that it wasn’t Isaac he was mad at, it was his father. But he was very, _very_ firm in telling him to stop apologizing and blaming himself for everything. In theory, Isaac knew that. In practice… Well. He was working on it.

It didn’t help that Derek’s way of coping with his own issues was exactly the same as Isaac’s – numb it down, pretend it doesn’t exist, or take the aggression out on the nearest inanimate object. Eventually, they ended up channeling it into something that was a little bit more productive.

Isaac doesn’t really remember who suggested it, or how it started, exactly, but somehow, Derek started teaching him some self-defense techniques. A few basic principles of Krav Maga, which, not at all surprisingly, Derek had acquired an orange belt in while going to college in New York. It gave them an excuse to get very physical with each other – in an aggressive way, not a sexual way, though Isaac would have honestly been fine with either – while also creating a nice little dynamic between them. Derek was a strict and sometimes rather rough teacher, but never failed to let Isaac know when he was doing a good job and how he was improving, and that alone was a much bigger help than either of them could have anticipated.

It gave him the self-confidence he needed to start making friends with a few people from school. People who were kind and welcoming, most of whom _also_ had an incredibly high level of snark in them, so Isaac fit right in. Having a whole group of friends was a surreal experience – sure, he and Jackson used to play together as kids, and he occasionally hung out with Erica and Boyd before going to live with Derek, but now there was a bigger and somehow tighter-knit group and he got to be a part of it. A group that actually _missed_ him when he wasn’t around and _liked_ it when he was. Crazy.

It _also_ gave him the courage to, when Derek went on a scarily familiar drinking binge and kicked him out of the apartment in a fit of rage, walk right out the door with his head held high and his shoulders squared. At least until he was out of the building. Sure, _then_ he broke down, but Derek wasn’t around to see it anymore and that was the important part.

And then he was out in the cold rain and filled with anger, just like his father had been on his last few minutes of life. The thought sent a chill down his spine. It was an entirely different situation, but here it was, the bad luck gene, manifesting once again. After a long moment of consideration, he walked to the closest of his friends’ houses that he could reach – the McCall residence, home to the boy who had the brightest smile he’d ever seen – and rang the doorbell with a sharp sting of desperation in his chest.

It was Scott’s mother, Melissa, who opened the door. And she was…

Well, if Isaac was being perfectly honest with himself, she was exactly the kind of mom he would have loved to grow up with. With a warm hand on his shoulder, seeming completely unbothered by the wetness dripping from his clothes onto the floor, she told him in a firm but soothing voice to go upstairs and get into a hot shower, and that they would ask questions when his teeth weren’t chattering.

(Depressingly enough, it still baffled him that normal families took care of the children’s wellbeing _before_ scolding, punishing, or even questioning them about whatever trouble they got into. Even _other people’s_ children. Who’d have thought?)

Half an hour later, he was sitting at the kitchen table with both McCalls, wearing a pair of Scott’s pajamas that fit him a little too tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he had to remind himself that Melissa was a nurse and saw people’s junk literally every day, so really, it wasn’t as awkward as he was making it in his head. Still, junk-outlining pajamas aside, he was warm and dry and there were two pairs of brown eyes looking intently at him as he explained why he ended up there, and it felt kind of great.

And this is how he ended up here.

It’s been almost a month since Scott and Melissa took him in. Some paperwork was filed. Some arrangements were made between Melissa and Derek – because Derek has tried to patch things up with Isaac after throwing him out, and although Isaac still hasn’t managed to forgive him enough to want to go back to his apartment, the man insisted on continuing to pay his bills, for which Isaac is thankful. He can’t provide for himself yet, after all, and the money is being transferred to _Melissa’s_ account to lift the burden off of _her_ shoulders, not as some kind of bribe for Isaac’s forgiveness.

(It’ll take them a while, still. They talk now and then, even hung out once after the big fight, and sure, Isaac misses Derek. And Derek is very apologetic about the whole deal. If nothing else, he can appreciate the sincere, _verbal_ apology, because he knows how much effort it must have taken Derek to muster it up. They’re similar in that way, too; verbal and physical abuse has taught them to grovel, but at the same time, to associate apologies with an admission of inferiority. It’s also taught them on a subconscious level that a person’s fuck-ups can and will forever be held over their head. It’s at least heartwarming to know that Derek is pushing through these instincts to reach out to him, because he values their friendship, values _him._ They’ll be okay. Just not yet.)

Now his bedroom is in the attic, which he’d expected to induce some nasty flashbacks, but the presence of a big window makes a world of difference. It reminds him that he’s in the _attic_ and not in a basement, in the home of a family who cares for him, and there’s not a freezer in sight. It’s a simple room, with a bed, a desk, and a dresser, and not much else. He likes it, though. And truthfully, it’s not like he spends that much time up there anyway – most of his studying is done in the living room or sitting on Scott’s bed while Scott sits at the desk right next to him.

That’s his favorite part. Scott. There’s just something so good about him, so captivating, it makes Isaac want to be near him as often as he can. Of course he has his flaws, and there are some flaws you figure out very quickly when you spend most of your time with the person, but he’s still one of the warmest, kindest, most genuine people Isaac has ever met. The only thing that bothers Isaac is… Well.

There’s something very uncomfortable about having all of his friends know most of his tragic backstory. Even though they treat him the same as they do each other, it still feels a little invasive; Isaac doesn’t know the skeletons that probably lie in every family’s closet (even a family as nice as the McCalls, as evidenced by the fact that the dad is out of the picture and never so much as mentioned) and yet they know most of his. All the fundamental bits, anyway. The skulls and ribcages and spines and hipbones. Sure, the little foot bones are missing, but who even cares about those? Maybe he’s going a little far with the metaphor. The point is, it wasn’t his choice to let his friends know about the abuse he went through, and if it had been, he wouldn’t have. Not because he’s afraid they might use it against him, but because there are… Looks. Looks and silences. He could really do without those.

It happens when Stiles gets called to the principal’s office for some behavior issue and arrives at the lunch table with a sour look on his face, mumbling about how _“Dad’s gonna fuck me up if the principal has to call him again”_. There’s a silence that hangs over the whole group then, and although Isaac is staring straight at his pasta, he _knows_ they’re concerned about his reaction. So he just pretends he didn’t hear it, and sure, the conversation goes back to normal.

It happens again when he and Allison are stuck doing detention in that stupid, tiny supply closet, and the door shuts by accident, and he has a straight-up panic attack in there. He appreciates her helping him through it, even though there isn’t really much that can be done until they get the door open; what’s annoying is how she seems to walk on eggshells around him the whole day after that. He’s _fine,_ damn it. Once he’s out in a more open space and breathing fresh air, he’s good to go.

And it happens _again_ when he and Scott have their first fight.

Actually, scratch that. It happens the day _after_. Because the fight is pretty intense for their standards, and Scott goes way, way over the line. What started as a regular post-dinner study session turns into Isaac confessing he wanted to kiss Allison – one of their mutual best friends _and_ Scott’s ex-girlfriend – and the next thing he knows is that Scott, the same Scott who’s always so gentle and warm and nice, is tackling him to the floor in a way that sets every single one of his nerves to fight-or-flight mode.

Isaac wishes he could honestly tell a better story, all about how he used the techniques he learned from Derek and fought back. But no, he shuts down. He fucking _shuts down_ and just lays there, silent, in utter disbelief at Scott and frustration at himself.

That, of course, makes Scott come to his senses and start to apologize profusely, immediately pulling away from him and offering a timid hand to help him stand up. A hand that Isaac resolutely ignores as he stands up on his own, still in something of a trance, and walks straight up to his bedroom without so much as a glance in Scott’s direction.

The closed door does very little to muffle the knocks and the voice that comes in just a minute later, when Isaac is sitting on his bed with his head buried in his hands.

“Isaac. I’m so sorry. Please, just – can you just open the door and we’ll talk it out? Please?”

Goddamnit, Scott’s voice is all choked up. It fucking _hurts_. Isaac knows he probably didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t make the tackling any less wrong and he knows that, too. He’s not going to give in and pretend like everything is okay, not when his heart is still pounding so painfully in his chest, he isn’t sure he can speak at all.

“Look, I get that you don’t wanna talk right now. I get that. And that’s okay, take your time.” He cracks at the end of the word, and damn it, Isaac is tearing up too. “Just… I guess don’t go? I mean. I can’t really stop you from going if you don’t want to stay here anymore. But please don’t.”

Fuck. _Fuck,_ this is a mess. He’s never been in this kind of situation before and his head is going in a million different directions at once, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do now. Should he say something? He doesn’t want to make Scott cry. It’s not that serious. He could just shrug it off and say it’s fine, but it’s not, is it? It isn’t. But Scott took him in and actually _wants_ him there and now he’s _crying._ He should probably say something.

He doesn’t.

“I’ll… I’ll leave you alone now. I’m so sorry.”

That night, Isaac can’t sleep. He wants to forgive Scott and go give him a hug. He also wants to freeze Scott out for a long time and see how it feels to, just once, have the upper hand – because there’s a big part of him that _still_ recognizes remorse as weakness, and isn’t it great to be the one on top for once in his goddamn life? Isn’t it great to have the power to _give_ forgiveness instead of being desperate to _receive_ it, and wouldn’t it be a rush to withhold it just because he can?

No, that’s horrible. Scott doesn’t deserve that. That’s the abuse speaking, not Isaac. He’s not cruel. (He _could_ be, if he wanted to, but he isn’t.) And he likes Scott. Trusts him, too. Scott is always comforting, always polite and respectful and kind, and this was just the one time when he wasn’t. He showed remorse right away. Hell, he’s probably in his bedroom crying too. Surely he deserves a second chance, right? He does.

Of course he does. Scott and Melissa let Isaac _live_ with them without a second of hesitation. They’re putting a roof over his head and food in his stomach, and they absolutely did not have to; he’s not related to them in any way, nor do they owe him anything. He’s damn lucky, is what he is. So what if there’s one new bruise on him? If he’d been with his father, there would be several by now. He should get out of the bedroom right now and apologize to Scott for making such a big deal out of it, God, he’s such a pussy.

But, wait, no. That’s the abuse talking too. Why is it so hard to tell what’s rational and what isn’t? He needs a fucking therapist or something. Or he just needs to get a better grip on his life. That’d work too.

He spends the whole night caught up in this cycle, and by five in the morning on a goddamn Saturday, he has (mostly) come to a conclusion.

It seems that his suspicions were right – neither he nor Scott got a wink of sleep. When he gets out of bed and walks down to the living room, there’s Scott, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders. The TV isn’t on, but he’s looking in the general direction of it, probably too immersed in his own thoughts to even remember to grab the remote.

Isaac’s heart is already aching, both dreading and anticipating the conversation they’re about to have, and Scott hasn’t even noticed his presence yet.

Speaking of which, he should probably fix that. Melissa has asked him several times to _please_ make a noise when he’s entering the room, because apparently, he’s learned to be “eerily silent and kind of creepy”. Her words, spoken in the most affectionate tone she could manage. He walks up to the couch, still quiet, and sits on the far end of it; only then does Scott look in his direction and immediately change his demeanor.

(He hates it. The snappy movements and the big eyes and the tensing shoulders. It’s far too familiar.)

“I can go to my room.” Scott murmurs, though he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“No, it’s fine.”

“No, really-“

“Scott.” Isaac resists the urge to come closer, at least for now, but keeps his tone docile. (Not meek. Docile isn’t meek. He’s straightening things out after a fight with a friend, not giving in to avoid a bad consequence.) “I think we have to talk.”

Instead of responding, the boy nods respectfully and turns sideways on the couch so they can face each other. Isaac does the same, sliding from the armrest to the seat and pulling his legs up to his chest.

“So. Last night.” He begins, because he has to begin somewhere. “Last night was… Bad.”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t have tackled me like that.”

“I know. I don’t know what got into me, I swear. I’m so sorry. It’s never gonna happen again, I promise.”

God, this is hard. Hearing an admission of guilt, seeing the clear repentance in Scott’s big, captivating eyes, and going through with the explanation of what he did wrong instead of dropping everything and just pretending like it’s all okay. He feels _mean._ It takes way too much effort to keep going, but he does anyway.

“I don’t doubt you. I mean – you’re never aggressive like that. I just… I don’t get it.”

Scott shuffles a little bit closer. They still aren’t touching, but it seems a little more intimate now, and maybe that’s just because of how Isaac’s heart feels uncomfortably open.

“Okay. What don’t you get?”

“Why you got so mad.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is it won’t happen again.”

This time it’s Isaac who makes a move to come closer. Their knees are just barely touching, in a way that’s at the same time casual and oddly comforting.

“I think if you don’t figure out _why_ it happened, the chances of it happening again are a lot higher, dude.”

“You don’t believe me?” Scott seems a little confused. A little evasive, too.

“That’s not what I said.”

“I… I like being your friend, you know. I wouldn’t want to do anything to like… Mess that up.”

Well. That doesn’t make anything any clearer, but it sure is nice to know. What isn’t nice is the way Scott is wrapping the blanket a little tighter around himself, like he wants to hide.

“I like being your friend too. But tell me what it is that got you so worked up. Is it because you still have feelings for Allison?”

Scott hesitates.

“Kinda? But… It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Okay. Talk.”

“I don’t want you to think-“

“Oh, my God, Scott, I’m gonna knock you over the head if you don’t come out and say it already. Jesus.”

That lightens the mood, thankfully. Scott’s lips open in a smile, and he laughs quietly; Isaac has a smile of his own that comes more from Scott’s adorable reaction than from the words themselves. After a long, much more comfortable moment of silence, Scott finally speaks.

“The problem is I’m not really sure what’s going on in here.” He makes a wide gesture with his hand, indicating the whole area from his head to his chest. Isaac can definitely relate. “I don’t want Allison back. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, she’s one of my best friends. But the thing we had isn’t gonna happen anymore, and like, that’s good for both of us. So I’m good.”

“So is this like… You don’t want her, but you don’t want anyone else to have her, either?”

“It’s more about how it was _you_ and her.”

Well. _That’s_ new.

“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Definitely a compliment. I guess I kind of might have a little thing for you. I don’t know if it’s just ‘cause we’re so close all the time, or…”

Right.

Right, this is happening now.

What the fuck is his life.

This should be great news. Scott is attractive and smart and a wonderful person in most aspects, and Isaac would definitely be onboard with… Anything involving the two of them getting together, really. But his brain is far too used to going to the worst-case scenarios, and given Scott’s habit of trying to heal everything he touches…

He shouldn’t say anything. He should be flattered. And he is. But he’s also _not._

“Isaac. Can you, like… Acknowledge what I said? I’m freaking out a little here.”

Shit. Right. He can have an internal monologue later.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m gonna say something you’re not gonna like.”

“You’re not interested.”

“Wrong. Let me talk.” Despite the words being harsh, Isaac keeps his tone gentle and their knees touching. This isn’t supposed to turn into another fight, after all. In fact, if they both handle it right, it could even turn into something great – a thought that makes Isaac’s heart start hammering from the anticipation alone. “I _am_ interested. I’m not like, in love or anything, but you’re pretty amazing and I think I want to get closer, too. I just can’t help worrying that you might be getting things mixed up in your head.”

Scott tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy, and it’s unfairly cute.

“What do you mean?”

“Look. You’re the kind of guy who wants to help everyone. Make people feel better. Take care of them, if you will.” He shoots the boy a meaningful glance. “And then some dude ends up living with you, with a sad backstory and about an airport’s worth of baggage. You see where I’m going with this?”

“Not… Really.”

“What I’m saying is, I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose, but I don’t want you to ever see this as some kind of… Project, I guess. I’ve got my issues, a whole lot of them, and I’m working on those. Us being together isn’t gonna make them magically go away. You can’t get frustrated, with me or with yourself, even if they never do.”

“Isaac.”

“Like I said, I know you wouldn’t act like that on purpose. I just, if anything happens, I want it to be ‘cause you like me. Not my baggage.”

Scott seems at least slightly offended, by the way he leans back a little, distancing their bodies. Isaac would be more than a bit worried if it weren’t for the fact that their knees are still touching and he’s putting some very conscious effort into keeping his breathing steady.

“Dude, I don’t – you’re more than just your issues.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

He hadn’t expected to need a deep breath and a few seconds to answer, but here they go. His words come out a lot less secure than they did before.

“Yeah. I do.”

There’s a warm, surprisingly soft hand reaching for his now, and he doesn’t hesitate to accept it. The contact steadies him. Apparently, it does the same to Scott, who now talks through a shy little smile.

“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble believing there’s a whole lot I like about you that has nothing to do with the sad stuff.”

He believes it. He thinks. Maybe. When his brain cooperates a little better, he’ll believe it more. Right now, though, what he can do is lean in a little closer and barely mask the satisfaction it brings him when Scott mimics the action. As close as they are, the words can be quiet, and it envelops them in an almost surreal atmosphere. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, too. Or maybe it’s the hypnotic feeling of wanting someone and being wanted back.

“Like what?” He asks, half teasing, half legitimately curious.

“Like how you don’t shy away from things even if they’re intimidating.”

“Hmm.”

Scott’s free hand lifts up to his face, and the feeling of light fingertips tracing his jawline makes his chest constrict in a strangely wonderful way. (He isn’t used to tenderness. Friendly touches, yes, he’s gotten used to them after a few months of hanging out with his new group of friends, but no one has been this _sweet_ to him in, well, ever. Damn, he loves this. At least when it comes from Scott, he does.)

“I like the way you pay attention to the small details. And what a big smartass you can be.” Scott’s thumb swipes over his bottom lip; only then does he realize he’s grinning big. “And your ridiculously pretty smile.”

“Wait til you see what _else_ I can do with my mouth.”

“ _Dude_!”

The seriousness of the moment dissolves into laughter, although their bodies stay just as close, hands still linked in between. Lighthearted and a little silly and entirely perfect. Even more so when, as soon as they catch their breath, Isaac leans in the rest of the way and pulls Scott into a kiss that makes his head go pleasantly hazy.

Here he is. Being normal. Getting butterflies in his stomach from kissing a boy he likes, holding hands on the couch, laughing at blowjob jokes. Months ago, he would have thought this would never happen, and yet it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

When they kiss again – and again, and again, melting into each other’s bodies and sighing with contentment – it feels like both a promise and a celebration in its own right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I’m never very happy with the way my fics end, but here y’all go. I think this is kind of cute. Right? I sure hope so. Please leave a comment if you like this, it means the world to me.  
> Thanks for reading!


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